


Don't Ask Me About The Things We Do

by ThirtySixSaveFiles



Category: Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: M/M, rival CEOs au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-07-29 20:23:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7698202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirtySixSaveFiles/pseuds/ThirtySixSaveFiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not long after what Rhys thinks of as The Helios Incident that their roles are reversed, and Handsome Jack talks his way into a tour of the main Atlas facility.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Ask Me About The Things We Do

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a prompt for [weirdtakoyaki](http://weirdtakoyaki.tumblr.com): "hair washing or adjusting necktie or jewelry etc rhack winkyface." I choose to believe that Jack's shield counts as a piece of jewelry, and I wanted to write more rival CEOs, so I did. ;)
> 
> Takes place at some indeterminate time after Complicated (Like You).

It’s not long after what Rhys thinks of as The Helios Incident that their roles are reversed, and Handsome Jack talks his way into a tour of the main Atlas facility. Corporate cooperation is always a tricky thing, and while his board thinks that this sounds like a great PR opportunity, privately Rhys thinks that this sounds like another way for Jack to wind Rhys up.

Jack appears amiable and in good spirits, though, when he steps off the shuttle. He’s only brought a small entourage, and he lets them mill around as he folds his arms and takes in the plant and Rhys standing in front of it. It’s no space station, but Rhys thinks that it’s impressive enough in its own way.

It’s also no Old Haven, but there is no way that Rhys is taking Handsome Jack to Old Haven.

“Nice facility, Atlas,” Jack says as he strolls up, leaving his entourage behind for the moment. “Tall. Compensating for something?” He leers, and this is why Rhys had insisted that the rest of the welcoming party wait _inside_.

“Keep that up and you’ll never find out,” he says, and Jack laughs, appreciative. “Shall we?”

“Lead the way,” Jack says, content - for the moment - to follow.

He balks, however, at the security check right inside the front door. He hands over the Vision pistol with little more than a scowl, and then starts forward to join Rhys. He’s stopped short, however, by a security guard who awkwardly holds a hand up - careful not to touch - and steps in his way.

“The, uh. The shield. We need that too.” Rhys sighs internally at the nervous crack in the guard’s voice. He’ll have to find a new assignment for this one.

Jack’s eyes snap to Rhys’ and his brows draw down. His hand comes up to cover the shield masquerading as a pocket watch pinned to his lapel.

“Did you think I wouldn’t recognize it for what it was?” Rhys is genuinely curious, and Jack frowns harder but he doesn’t move to take it off.

“This is purely defensive technology,” he says shortly.

“Do you think I don’t know what can be done with ‘defensive’ technology?” Rhys counters.

Jack bares his teeth but it’s nowhere near a grin. “This is custom work. I’m not handing it over to be scanned by some Atlas technician so you can flood the market with cheap knockoffs two months from now.”

Rhys shrugs. It had been worth an attempt. “I’m not letting you walk around my facility with such a non-standard piece of tech.”

“Non-standard - I let you waltz through my station with that _eye,_ and you’re giving me grief about a shield?”

“That was your call. This is mine.” Rhys wonders if this tour is going to be over before it starts. The board isn’t going to like this, but if it gets this show on the road - “If it makes you feel better I’ll hold on to it for you. No scanning, I promise.” He extends his left hand out, waiting.

For a minute he thinks Jack isn’t going to go for it. Then Jack squares his shoulder and pushes past the guard, unclipping the pocket watch-cum-shield as he does.

“I expect this back without a scratch,” he says as he drops the shield in Rhys’ waiting palm. He’s standing just a little too close, and his voice is not quite threatening but it’s on its way there.

“Without a scratch,” Rhys promises, closing his fingers around it. The shield is warm, either from the internal circuitry or the heat of Jack’s body, and it feels heavy for its size as he slips it in his pocket.

Jack’s eyes hold his for a long second, then Jack steps back and switches the smile back on.

“It had better be a hell of a tour after all this, Atlas. What’ve you got for me?”

* * *

Jack hates to admit it, but the Atlas facility is impressive.

You can’t tell from the towering architecture and the busy hum of workers that this was a corporation on the verge of bankruptcy just two years ago. Jack had done his best to push them over the edge, and he had thought that the installation of a young unknown as the CEO was the point of no return, but it looks like Rhys is having the last laugh - Atlas is as competitive as ever. If this is what Rhys can do in two years, Jack wonders uncomfortably what Rhys will be able to do with five or ten.

All the more reason to get to him now.

Rhys is pretty - more than pretty - to look at, and Jack would like nothing more than to wreck him in bed, but he is _also_ a rival on Jack’s doorstep that Jack doesn’t need. Jack has been trying to bait Rhys into giving away something he can use from the very beginning, but so far Rhys has been annoyingly impervious. If Jack has to fuck this kid to fuck him over, he is more than willing to do that - but Rhys hasn’t seemed willing to play ball.

Until recently.

Jack’s willing to push that vulnerability for all it’s worth, but Rhys keeps surprising him, pushing right back. No one’s ever identified the shield just by _sight_ before, and the people who’ve seen it in action usually wind up dead. He certainly hadn’t expected Rhys to ask him to take it _off_ , although Rhys is absolutely right - there’s a lot of damage that can be done with defensive technologies.

Of course, Jack has other reasons to not want anyone to get a look at that shield.

If anyone asks, he’s going to tell them that he’s checking out Rhys’ ass, but the truth is that his eyes keep straying to where Rhys has put Jack’s shield in his pocket. If Rhys notices he doesn’t say anything.

When the tour is over, hands shaken and photo ops sufficiently exploited, Jack breathes out a sigh as he steps back out into the hot Pandoran sun. The climate is more temperate in this zone, but that baking heat seems to follow Jack no matter where he goes on this godforsaken planet. Being in Atlas is uncomfortably like being in another world, where the workers are a bit too cheery and Rhys’ smile a bit too serene, and the heat of the sun feels cleaner, somehow, than the climate controlled indoors.

There’s a reception going on in the courtyard around him, but for now he’s content to let the attendees cower at a distance rather than terrify them up close. He grins at the thought; maybe after he’s gotten a drink.

As if on cue, Rhys drifts over with a glass in each hand, and offers one to Jack. “It’s not poisoned,” he says calmly, and Jack chuckles as he takes it.

“Be the wrong venue for it if it was, pumpkin. Middle of an Atlas reception? There’s no way you’d escape investigation for that.” Rhys’ lips curve upward and he hums, maybe in appreciation, maybe in something else, Jack doesn’t know.

“I also promised you this,” Rhys says, setting his drink down and pulling Jack’s shield out of his pocket. Jack tenses a bit, watching Rhys’ fingers around the casing, but he stills as Rhys leans forward and affixes it to Jack’s lapel.

“There,” he says, smoothing his hands down Jack’s chest in a gesture that’s just a bit too intimate for propriety. “Not a scratch.”

Jack can’t leave a line like that hanging. “Speaking of scratching, I’ve got an itch you can help me out with, it’s on my-”

“ _Stop_.” Rhys drops his hands and steps back, but Jack can tell he’s amused despite himself.

And he’s not looking at the shield anymore, so, bonus.

The rest of the reception is predictably boring, and the only reason Jack is even mildly disappointed to get on the shuttle to head back to Helios is that he can’t needle Rhys in person anymore. He lounges in the back, letting the flunkies group together up front like scared little skags, and when he’s sure none of them is even accidentally looking in his direction he unclips the shield and pops it open.

It’s designed to echo an old-fashioned pocket watch, and it had been a careful bit of cosmetic work to get the hinges to look fake while still being operable. Jack’s pretty sure Rhys hadn’t opened it; and if he had, the contents probably wouldn’t have meant much to him.

Still. There’s proprietary Hyperion technology, and then there’s the Angel Project.

Jack traces a finger over Angels face. If he can get this to work, he’ll have an unbeatable edge over his corporate rivals, including Rhys.

Jack wonders what Rhys would think about Angel.

He snaps the shield closed and clips it back to his jacket. With any luck, Rhys will never know about Jack’s attempt to open a vault until it’s too late. With any luck, Jack can coax Rhys into bed _before_ Jack grinds his company into the dust. Things are starting to go Jack’s way, and with any luck, that will continue.

And if it doesn’t, Jack’s always been a big believer in making his own luck.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at [ThirtySixSaveFiles](http://thirtysixsavefiles.tumblr.com) on Tumblr!


End file.
